


Ferocity

by BeelzWrites



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alpha/Omega, Anal Sex, Come Inflation, Come Swallowing, Death, Explicit Sexual Content, Face-Fucking, Hrothgar (Final Fantasy XIV), Large Cock, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mind Break, Minor Character Death, Multi, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex, Zenos has a harem of heroes that he's conquered and now you are one of them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:08:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23247523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeelzWrites/pseuds/BeelzWrites
Summary: This is a work in progress. This is purely shameful smut that I am almost ashamed of. More to come later as I update.You are the Warrior of Light, so imagine them however you want. Although, for convenience for me, in later chapters, I will probably start using he/him pronouns. Just fyi.(I got it into my head one day that Zenos - a fucking psychopath with a Garlean body of steel - would probably "hunt" and capture sex slaves. And I guess I have a thing for big cocks and mind break, so...)
Relationships: Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)/Original Character(s), Zenos yae Galvus/Reader, Zenos yae Galvus/Warrior of Light
Comments: 11
Kudos: 103





	1. Chapter 1

Zenos Yae Galvus led you into the grand private hall deep within the citadel in the Empire’s capital city. You sometimes had dreams of coming to this place. But always in disguise with cunning espionage or side-by-side with your friends leading an allied offensive towards victory and freedom. Never like this.

Never like… this.

There was always risk involved when you’re the warrior of light out on a mission. And through thick and thin, you always seemed to manage to make things right again. So even now, stripped bare of all your weapons, armor, clothes… chained together and pushed along by powerful officers fully clad in armor… there was still hope beating in your chest.

“It was a marvelous battle,” Zenos bellowed, stretching his arms. He too was still in his battle-worn armor, gloating over its cracks and devastation. “I felt death at the nape of my neck, but in your time away, you forgot that I am possessed of the Resonant. My power now towers above your Echo.” 

You said nothing, letting Zenos revel in his victory, biding your time. Zenos caught the look in your glare and simpered, almost apologetically. 

“Come now,” he said to you, approaching slowly, hand groping at his sword. “Don’t burn so full of hatred now. It’s a waste of good ferocity. You will need every iota of your strength for the trials to come, Champion.” 

Zenos did not wait for a reply, perhaps sensing your defiant silence. He stood up straight, looking lordly around the grand hall. There were some fires burning for light and heat, but mostly there were just marble pillars and cold steel. Zenos stood near the closest, largest fireplace and seemed to meditate for a moment.

“Yes, the struggle for dominance, my friend, is not yet complete. If I must break you, it need be in such a way that you are well and truly broken.” Zenos was taunting you now, but you steadied your breath, not giving into fear or anger. 

“I’ve played this game before. Many times. How many countries fell like wheat to the scythe against the Empire? How many rebellions, coups, and civil wars? How many assassins, gladiators, champions…? The answer is, well, quite many.” Zenos snapped his fingers, and the servant side door opened immediately. More soldiers ushered in a parade of persons, all of different races, genders, sizes. There must have been nearly three dozen of them. Each was dressed in silks and gauze and golden jewelry that doubled as restraints and chains when necessary. The colors of their clothes seemed so random, that they simply must have a meaning, and you assumed that each person was wearing the colors of some nation, faction, or alliance.

And every single person was practically quivering. You might assume it was out of terror, but in reality, each slave there was knocking their knees together in exhaustion. They were all flush, panting, like they had just been brought out of a sauna. Those with male genitalia stood erect, throbbing, their thin garments leaving very little to the imagination. Those with female genitalia all seemed to be dripping from between their legs, so much so that a sticky puddle of wet appeared like a stain on their crotches. 

Zenos inspected the line, his Garlean lineage flowing so powerfully through his blood that even the tallest of the concubines only reached Zeno’s chin. The poor Lalafells could barely kiss his knees on tip toe. “The Viper Pit,” Zenos began, pointing to individuals among the formation. “A Garlean general who thought to spearhead a coup d'etat. Oh look, this one is a famous Champion from Doma - you remember there, don’t you?”

“Look into their faces, hero,” Zenos says to you. “Each one of them stood where you stood once. Each one of them screamed and called me a monster. Swore they would never obey a word that came from my mouth. And now…” Zenos swept his hand dramatically across the group of slaves. “They all beg for me.”

Zenos undid several latches near his waist and turned back to face you, revealing his cock. Your breath catches in your throat as your stomach drops. You feel like you might be ill. 

It’s quite possibly the largest thing you’ve ever seen. Even flaccid, Zeno’s cock was thick and heavy and studded with bulging veins. His cockhead flared out so widely it looked like a shovel and was probably already the size of your fist. His testicles also hung low and impossibly large, so much so it was almost unthinkable how he managed to keep it all in his suit of armor. 

There was a noise and a flurry of motion. From deep within the ranks of the concubines, a male Hyur wrestled his way to the front and skidded across the marble floor on his knees. He opened his mouth as wide as he could and tried to take all of Zenos in. Zenos stood dispassionately while this happened, and the other slaves licked their lips in anticipation. 

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Zenos asked the Hyur, his voice dangerously low. The man didn’t reply, he only continued to run his tongue along Zenos’ cock. Zenos sighed and casually batted the man away with a vicious backhand. 

The motion seemed so careless, that it could have been misinterpreted as a love tap. But as soon as Zeno’s gauntlet struck the Hyur’s face, the man flew across the room, colliding with a stone column. You look on in horror to see that the man’s face is practically unrecognizable. He may not be dead, he may simply be unconscious, but his nose was splintered, his jaw was shattered, and what looked like more than half his teeth lay scattered across the ground. 

When Zenos returned the line, he was cupping his heavy shaft in one hand, hefting it up and down. “If you’d still like to suck my cock, get on your knees now.” 

In one fluid motion, every single concubine complied. Zenos smiled at this and then returned to you, ignoring the other slaves. He came so close that you could smell his Garlean musk from his exposed cock. 

“Take that one away,” Zenos commanded, and instantly nameless soldiers carried the orders out, dragging the bloodied body of the Hyur away. Zenos wasn’t finished however. He again pointed to the kneeling line up. “That one, I give to you General Haoda. That one can go to Captain Rochester for her valiant bravery during battle. You, you, you, you, and you, all go to higher ranking officers, I don’t care who. And finally, all the rest can go to the camps.”

A female concubine towards the back practically wailed in despair. 

“All of them, sire?” the commanding officer inquired. 

“Yes, they can do whatever they want with them. Kill them, impregnate them, break their bones, amputate their legs so they can’t run away. Whatever pleases my armies they shall provide.”

“Yes, sire!” With a salute, the orders were carried out, some slaves having to be dragged shrieking from the halls. Until at last it was only you and Zenos. Alone.

“You think you won’t break,” Zenos said again, more solemnly this time. “You think you won’t beg. You think you’ll outlast me. Right now, you’re imagining our fights together, all those times you almost had the upper hand, telling yourself just be patient.” Zenos paused, catching his breath“You’ll break. Just like all the others.”

Zenos positioned himself in front of you, his cock inches from your face. He gives you a command. 

“Open.”

At that moment you decide. You choose life over death. You choose humiliation over ceasing to exist. You choose hope over temporary discomfort. 

Without a word, you open your mouth.

\-----

Your head slams against the marble floor as Zenos lets go of your hair, your body so weak and exhausted that you can’t even self-preserve and break your fall by holding your arms out. Your eyes are glazed over and dull, any higher level thinking thoroughly drilled out of your brain. As you gasp and pant, desperate for air, you glance down at your stomach as it gurgles audibly.

Zenos had dumped so much cum into your mouth that your guts were full to bursting. He throat fucked you for what had to have been hours. Zenos’ semen churns in your belly, coats the back of your throat, and is dripping from your nostrils from all the times you couldn’t swallow fast enough Zenos refused to let you pull out for air. 

Your face is caked with cum and tears and snot, and you can barely register that Zenos is towering over you, growling. 

“Pathetic,” he curses. “The night is still young and already you’re a mess? This won’t do.” Zenos snapped his fingers, and the doors flew open to allow guards into the hall. “Take this one to the camps as well. Let the soldiers use their toy, but they cannot kill or maim their new plaything or I will be sorely upset. Understood?”

“Yes, sire!” 

"Maybe our Champion will be able to learn a little more endurance."

The last thing you remember is being forced onto your feet and nearly collapsing. Your stomach lurched and - feeling suddenly dizzy - you vomited. White cum gushed out of your mouth, your body desperate to evacuate you of Zenos’ seed. Even after spilling so much onto the floor, as the soldiers dragged you away, you could still practically feel Zenos’ sperm squirming inside you, invading, looking to breed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will the Warrior of Light survive his encounter with a ferocious Hrothgar in heat?
> 
> Yeah probably, but like... literary tension and all that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can imagine the Warrior of Light as any race you want, but maybe don't picture yourself as a tiny Lalafell for this fic, maybe? Hmm? Maybe don't do that?

You were making yourself a handful. You earned all of those titles… , and the smart Garlean soldiers knew it. They didn’t come near you. Only the stupid ones did, and for a time the generals were even grateful to you, weeding out the weak.

  
Oh, they punished you for each soldier killed, but each attempt ultimately resulted in a slap on the wrist. But then the smarter Garleans began to try… and the corporal punishment intensified when those ones started to die. They started tying you down when you slept and leaving you tied, only approaching you in packs.

  
After a few months of being tossed from camp to camp, Zeno’s prized Champion was the challenge of the Garlean century. Yet it was an extremely high bar - fuck the Champion of Light and live? Good luck. The fun was in the challenge, but the challenge you provided was consistently too much for the rank and file.

  
They ran and cried to Zenos. And Zenos responded:

_“If you can’t handle my pet, then send him back to me.”_

When confronted with this, you quickly capitulated. Those thick headed generals thought the message was to inspire them to fight harder and do better, when actually you knew the true threat behind the message. If they gave up and sent you home, that would mean you once again being in the capable hands of Zenos.

  
So you learned patience. You made a game out of which haughty officers you killed and which you let live. Anything to keep them appeased and you out of that man’s grip.

What news you got about Eorzea or the Scions were mostly skewed, populist garbage. Nothing could be trusted this deep into enemy lines. And there was no hope whatsoever of being rescued so far from home.

You were so out North that summer didn't exist here. The only variance in the weather was a gradient of snowing softly or deadly, subzero blizzards.

So far North the sun was a pale yellow through the thin atmosphere, and provided no warmth. Even during the months when the sun didn't set at all, just rolled along the horizon as if pushed ceaselessly by some tortured soul punished to never rest until the planet's axis tilted back the other way.

Days when your breath didn't crystalize on your tongue were rare, and some nights - while shivering bitterly under your moth eaten blanket - you channeled your remaining Mana in an attempt to summon Shiva so that you could suckle on her frozen teet for warmth. Alas, she never materialized.

It was almost a mercy when the Garleans introduced the Hrothgar in heat to your ramshackle tent; at the very least you now had another body to share the frigid nights.

The first indication that something was amiss came subtly; the soldiers stopped fucking you one day, and your ears were perking at that. This had been the end to the longest streak of getting nonstop ploughed. Almost like it was your job, and you're the only worker on duty, scheduled all double shifts. So the silence after waking up comfortably and not by being choked on a solider's cock (be it morning wood or a quickie after the night post) forced your thoughts to run wild with panic.

A mech unit disturbed your sleep one night. You had just turned in, suspicious at the end of a third day of neglect in a row. You had even… relieved yourself with your hand... after the guard who delivered dinner left without even so much as pissing on you (quite possibly the rank-and-file's most popular act, seeing as the initial heat of the piss was such a blessing, only to have the urine quickly begin to chill you to the bone after they finish wiping their cock slit across your mouth or thwaking it along your tongue).

This particular mech was hauling the Hrothgar they intended to tease you with next. You even recognized him from little glimpses you got through your ratty tent clothe. It was one of the conquered souls in Zenos' personal harem.

The Hrothgar was naked, roaring, and wild. You'd never seen a Hrothgar in heat before, but this… There could be no doubt.

His fur was a deep cobalt blue color, striped with purple so dark you could only see them in the sheen of the light. He was nearly eight feet tall, and solid muscle. His testicles knocked against his threaded thighs with heavy, meaty slaps that sounded painful, but… must not have been, because the Hrothgar didn't even seem to mind his nutsack getting a bullseye kick from one of his aggressive handlers. If anything, all the scrotum hit managed to do was cause a streaming glob of precum to spill from the Hrothgar's tip across the soldier's chest, gooey cream getting into several nooks and crannies of the soldier's armor.

Yes, the Hrothgar's cock was menacingly erect. Even on such a large, powerful creature the cock was gigantic. It easily reached twelve inches, wrapped with pulsing, blue veins. The tip of his cockhead tapered off into a point, evolved over generations for optimal semen injection. In fact, his cock was so rigid that even while stomping around and fighting off Garleans, the pillar of flesh barely bounced as he raged.

He nearly destroyed the magiteck mount that was dragging him to the camp, and most certainly killed a low ranking soldier by smashing his helmeted skull through the metal gate of the camp proper.

The only reason they got him under control was because the Hrothgar had distracted himself by tearing the dead soldier's armor off and stuffing his raging erection into into his exposed butt. Even as the soldier's neck bled, cleaved open on the steel shards he was embedded in, the Hrothgar grabbed onto the body with bone shattering finger strength. You knew this because, even from your tent, you heard the bones shattering.

At least the dead man couldn't scream during any of this.

The Garleans did finally manage to corral the Hrothgar again, pulling him into your tent by leashes while several soldiers shoved him from behind.

At this point you had plenty of time to prepare. You could see in his wide pupils that the Hrothgar was so lost in heat he had no idea what he was doing. Soothing the beast would be impossible. The only objective in this quest was survival.

All at once, the Hrothgar's eyes locked with yours. A flash… of what? Was that recognition? Pity? It didn't matter, because it was gone now, replaced by raw lust. The soldiers loosed their leashes when the Hrothgar pounced. They chuckled and ribbed at you, but each one left quickly, obviously still fearing for their lives at the hands of the crazed Hrothgar.

Cowards.

If they thought you were going to subject yourself to this and die, they had another think coming.

You… are a survivor!

The Hrothgar blindly swipes for you, his hands practically large enough to uproot tree trunks. He had size. He had strength. The was even some agility and speed there, all heightened by the hormones of his heat.

You bat away the paw, slapping his wrist with your wrist, knocking his momentum wide. He sprawls to the floor, kicking up dirt and growling fiercely.

He turns, rearing himself up for a devastating charge -

But you're already there. In a second, there's no distance between the two of you, your arms raised to either side of your head in a defensive stance. With no way to rebuild his momentum, the Hrothgar staggers again, throwing a wild left haymaker.

You dodge. It's easy.

 _Bootshine._ Fuck the critical, he's in front of you - aggroed - and you will NOT be getting a chance to get behind him.

 _Twin Snakes._ Into his ribs, the Hrothgar coughs blood, feeling the fruits of extra Potency on that one.

No way your malnourished body is pulling off _Demolish,_ so -

 _Snap Punch!_ Targeting the Hrothgar's chest, directly over his heart. You hear bones crack.

They are your bones. Your knuckles in your right hand are now broken. This whole time, striking the Hrothgar was like bare fist punching a boulder. Not like you haven't done that before, but not after going so long with doing so little. The shuddering pain of the brittle ligaments in your hand snapping forces you to recoil out of melee range.

You hiss through your teeth, watching as the Hrothgar recovers. Your heart plummets, the rush of _Greased Lightning_ so close to the tip of your fingers, yet slipping away. If you could only have stacked once… twice! But no… this was the reality now.

Be quick! Keep him off guard!

_Shoulder Tack-_

But he's already there. You gasp in surprise, your breath stolen away by how quick the Hrothgar moved. He laid a palm forcefully into your shoulder and stopped you dead. There were even little trenches in the dirt from where your bare feet skidding backward against your will. He nearly swept you off your feet...

"Shit!" you cry out, feeling sweat drip into your eyes, the salt stinging you. You can't even raise your broken, bloodied hand to wipe any of it away. Favoring your right side and your injured hand, you try to angle yourself so that your left is side-face.

But the Hrothgar is skidding off to the side now, pressing his assault against your weakened side.

What the fuck is going on here? He's exploiting your fucking bad side?

Even as you adjust and attempt a left handed combo, the Hrothgar jukes you.

He JUKES you!

Faking a right to your injured hand, he catches you off balance before twirling the other way and snatching up your left wrist as it hung in the air, ready to punch.

Much, much too late do you remember. Even in captivity, even in heat, even while technically nothing more than a painted concubine, this Hrothgar (as well as all those other poor souls spread out across Garlemald) were once champions in their own right. It was absolute lunacy to think you stood a chance, abused as you are.

He's pulling your arm now, and there's an inferno as he wrenches it behind your back in an expert grapple. Your right hand is incapacitated, tender, bloody. And he's got your left arm in his unyielding grip.

There's a pop, and a shout. Your shout. Your shoulder. It's out. It's popped out. Your arm and your socket are no longer connected. You shout.

Encouraged by your animalistic grunting, the Hrothgar pulls even more, his own muscles bulging obscenely, until your arm is **ALL** the way behind your back.

Then... he's inside you.

You're _screaming_. The fucking heat of that monster cock burrowing through even your tightest muscles with ease. The Hrothgar was unable to bottom out. He was simply too wide - you could get almost eight inches down before your asshole couldn't open any more.

Oh gods, and did the Hrothgar try. He was incessant. Determined. Feral.

After an unsuccessful, yet thigh-trembling powerful thrust managed to cram only another millimeter into your body, the Hrothgar lets go of your arm; it falls across your back, and your first attempt to move it seared so much pain into your mangled shoulder that you actually start crying.

With both hands free, the Hrothgar digs his sausage-thick thumbs between that thin seam where his cock meets your rim… and he stretches. His forearms lock up with the force of it, blue veins engorged with blood popping up across the back of his wrists, palming your ass cheeks and spreading them like he's trying to get to the soft, nougaty center of the candy bar.

What's worse is that it works. He gets another inch in, massaging you this way. And you can officially feel him in your stomach. A few years ago, before you were capture, your abs were something impressive. But now - your torso a husk of what it used to be - those same ab muscles spasm feebly, stretched apart, chords snapping, burning. His cock is carving out a place for itself inside you, and it takes everything your abs have to just not burst apart.

But still there are three, nearly four inches left to go until he's fully sheathed, and he's just not getting there. Each inch down to the base is wider than the last!

Insanely, you try pushing your hips back into the Hrothgar's cock in the desperate hope that if you can just fit the rest of it inside, this will all end. Just end.

Just end already.

But by Hydalyn… this was only the beginning.

The Hrothgar wanted to be fully inside you, and the fact that he wasn't was making his foggy head angry. You could sense his frustration in the way he sporadically changed positions, trying to find that magic combination that would sink his final inches into that warm, pulsing hole.

He grabs your shoulders.

"No," you huff, using the last of the oxygen in your lungs.

He's angrily pushing down, your destroyed shoulder being wrent further. You can actually feel your left hand against your twitching and blood-slick right hand. They are so close together, you can lovingly fold your own fingers together from behind your back.

And still he pushes!

Your abs let you know that another inch has breached into you, and more is steadily coming. The shoulder press seems to be working well, a major success…

Your asshole is weeping blood from its torn rim, but the real pain is coming from your tailbone. You realize _that_ must be the major roadblock to the Hrothgar's progression, and sure enough - just as you deduce this - your hip bones break apart on the Hrothgar's cock.

Okay… that's sort of an exaggeration. You've had broken bones before, and this was more like a fracture. But the space the fracture made was just enough to slide in those last few inches. And with that additional pain, the Hrothgar was inside you completely.

A swelling sensation again tickles your lower intestines. Your guts gurgle and groan as it feels like the Hrothgar's cock was… growing? Getting bigger? No, it couldn't be. But then again, didn't Hrothgar have-

"No!" you shriek, your voice cracking, and you are almost certain you can hear Garlean Soldiers outside the tent snickering to one another at your adolescent-sounding outburst.

The knot continues to swell.

Your ass has never been so full, not even when that Marlboro stuck its tentacle into your ass that one time in the Sylphlands.

With one more gush of blood into his cock, the knot gorges itself to its full, royal size.

Only now do you realize why he was so desperate to get every inch inside you. He needed to knot. _To breed_. This wasn't over by a long shot.

And to prove it, the Hrothgar cast aside any other inhibitions that we're still left in his heat-crazed head. He fucks into you with such force, that fracture in your tailbone splits even wider. A jolt of pain shoots up your spine and doesn't dissipate, even as your cock twitches with orgasmic electricity. You're cumming, and you're cumming _hard_. Because the Hrothgar's knot is swollenly displacing your prostate. And your bladder. Neither of you seem to mind the piss that sprays out of your cock after your orgasm subsided.

The Hrothgar must have only just started his heat, or maybe the fight between them added some spice to the experience, and he was just excited in his victory... but he came right away.

One thrust, two thrust, cum.

And there was… oh, there was a lot of it.

There was a pause as the Hrothgar roared out his orgasm, then panted hungrily, his mouth hung open, tongue lolling out, drooling.

He took each of your thighs in one of his paws, closing his fingers around them and squeezing, ready for round two.

One thrust, two thrust, cum.

And… there was… a lot of it.

The Hrothgar fell lazily on his back with a furry thud, pulling you along with him on his cock. Riding out his orgasm, he gave small, contended thrusts into you as he shivers with elation.

You feel your stomach, your hands rubbing up against the sagging bulge that wasn't there before. Your thoughts are quickly interrupted by -

One thrust, two thrust, three thrust, four…

Looks like the Hrothgar was done being a quick trigger, and was really settling into his heat now.

How, uh… how long do Hrothgar ruts go for again? Oh, why didn't you pay more attention at Slitherbough to all that exposition?? You kept rushing through all the dialogue, just nodding or shaking your head seemingly at random, never saying a word.

Well, you were saying words now.

"Oh shit! Oooooooh fuck! Ffffffffuck me! Unf! Unf! Unf! Oof! OOOOOFFFFUUUUUCK! Shit! Shit! Shit!"

The Hrothgar was cumming again, and this time, so were you.

And there is... STILL... a lot of it.

After another bone jarring thrust, he moves to lay on his side, giving no regard to you or your wellbeing. You hit the floor with a grunt, instinctively tightening your destroyed asshole, fearing stupidly that you might slip off the knot. _Fat chance._

The Hrothgar continues to turn until he's laying on his stomach, pressing you painfully into the ground, his cock vibrating excitedly as you scream out - he is, after all, laying his 400+ pound bulk on top of you, crushing your left arm _between_ your twitching back and his harder-than-iron, heaving-with-every-breath torso.

Blessedly, your shoulder starts to feel numb, and you hope against hope that the Hrothgar was falling asleep.

It had already been several hours, and if he was even half as exhausted as you…

Oh.

No?

Nope.

He's thrusting into you again, your whole body quaking with the breakneck pace. This time, when he cums, your belly is already uncomfortably squashed into the thin cloth the Garleans called your "mattress". There's no room for it to expand any more, but... it _must_. And yet... the Hrothgar's knot will _not_ let a single drop out.

Fuck fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckthere's so much CUM!

Stop cumming!

_STOP!_

The Hrothgar stops cumming. For a moment.

Aaaaand he's thrusting into you again.

Fed up, you strike out with your right fist. It thwacks against the Hrothgar's hard, erect nipple, glancing harmlessly into it. The Hrothgar actually _purrs_ at this.

You try again, ignoring the searing pain in your hand. You strike at his meaty chest, making a thumping noise, like testing melons for ripeness. Once. Twice. The third hit is starting to leave a bloody patch in the Hrothgar's furry chest.

He grabs your right hand in his and gives it a loving squeeze; a gesture of good faith from an alpha to his omega.

Although it's a little counter productive, seeing as your fingers are instantly crushed by his grip. They shatter in several different places, and is so numb that you aren't even sure if you still _have_ a hand.

You freeze, not even daring to scream. Not even to breath.

You don't move a muscle. If he rips your right arm from its socket, you will truly be helpless.

So you go limp.

You submit.

And the Hrothgar senses this change in your body language. With a victorious laugh that was more like a roar, he wiggles his cock with his hips, churning your insides ruthlessly.

He doesn't pull on your arms any longer, or purposefully try to hurt you.

Instead, he puts his sabertooth-like fangs to your neck, until his entire maw is on you. He sinks those sharp teeth into you, clamping down on your injured shoulder and collarbone.

You squeal, feeling that precious life blood drip down your neck. He's scarring your flesh to the bone, claiming you.

He cums again, happy at your high-pitched, pleading whimper.

And you thought - _HA!_ \- you _THOUGHT_ the Hrothgar could cum a lot. You had no idea how much he could shoot inside you, that narrow piss slit of his flooding you with semen.

In the back of your mind, as you struggle to conceive of a way to break out of this situation, you realize that the only other person who had filled you like this before was Zenos. That man. That _damn_ man! This must have been his idea; to help break you in. If you recall correctly, Zeno's erect cock was as thick as this Hrothgar's, but it was easily fourteen inches long. And Zenos cumming once filled up your stomach much like you feel now, after several injections from the Hrothgar.

This message was just as clear to you now: 

_This is what I like, friend. This is what I trained him to be. If you can't handle this, you'll never get the chance to sit on my cock._

As if to mock you, the knowledge you were looking for before - about Hrothgar ruts - suddenly strikes you with complete clarity.

You groan, the Hrothgar working himself up to another climax.

This was…

Going to be a long two weeks….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zenos will be in the next chapter, dunworry.


End file.
